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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28509717">These things happen</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaos_monkey/pseuds/chaos_monkey'>chaos_monkey</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Stargate Atlantis</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Desperation, Embarrassment, Kink Discovery, M/M, Omorashi, Piss without Plot, Wetting, elements of voyeurism/exhibitionism, omo thirst trap Sheppard, sort of pre- Sheppard x Ronon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 19:02:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,213</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28509717</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaos_monkey/pseuds/chaos_monkey</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The only thing worse than being stuck in a long, boring ceremony is being stuck in a long, boring ceremony <i>after</i> drinking too much goddamn tea.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ronon Dex/John Sheppard</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>62</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>These things happen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is mayyybe a slightly generous E rating? It's not explicit sexual content so much as explicit piss content. </p><p>Anyway, if you're to blame for this, you know who you are and you know what you did.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>John Sheppard stifled a groan, wondering just <em> how long </em> this blasted ceremony was meant to last. He shifted surreptitiously on his feet in yet another futile attempt to alleviate some of the pressure of his belt cutting into his overfull bladder— but apparently he hadn’t been quite as circumspect about his shuffling as he’d thought. </p><p>“John, please,” Teyla said under her breath, standing beside him. “If you do not stop <em> fidgeting, </em> you will offend our hosts and embarrass me. Surely the ceremony is not so tedious that you cannot remain <em> still.</em>” </p><p>Her voice was about as close to an irritated hiss as John had ever heard from his usually unflappable Athosian team member, and even McKay looked over curiously. John winced inwardly, forcing himself to stand still again. It wasn’t the <em> ceremony </em> that was the problem, it was all the goddamn <em> tea </em> he’d been expected to drink right before it— and the fact that no one had bothered to warn him that the thing was apparently <em> hours </em>long. </p><p>An abashed “Sorry,” was all he muttered though, his face warming at the impression it would make if he, a grown man and the <em> military leader </em>of the entire Atlantis expedition, couldn’t even last through a simple ceremony celebrating… friends and allies, or whatever it was about. He’d sort of lost track of it all, too distracted by the growing pressure in his midsection to keep paying attention. </p><p>From Teyla’s reaction though, if just being a little restless would be enough to offend their hosts, then <em> leaving </em> in the middle of the damn thing might actually blow the so-far successful negotiations right out of the sky. So he gritted his teeth, clenched his hands into fists behind his back, and tried desperately to think about <em> anything </em>but the dull, heated throb pulsing uncomfortably through his lower belly in time with the beating of his heart. </p><p>It helped, briefly, but as the ceremony dragged on and on with no signs of ending, John was seriously starting to consider just leaving anyway and making his apologies later. He was pretty sure that pissing all over the floor in the middle of the speeches would be at least as much of an insult as walking out. And to his slowly growing panic, that was a possibility not too far off from becoming a very humiliating reality. It wasn’t even the thought of wetting his pants that was the embarrassing part, really— he’d been in the military long enough to know full well that sometimes these things just <em> happened.  </em></p><p>But adrenaline- or injury-fueled accidents, or the unavoidable bodily consequences of having to wait in a sniping position for hours and hours on end, were completely different from pissing yourself in front of bunch of non-military folks for no reason other than you didn’t think to go find a bathroom before settling in to an unreasonably long quasi-political religious fucking ceremony. </p><p>John was distracted from his own thoughts by another sharp pang of need sending a hot-cold flush rippling outwards from his aching bladder. He swallowed hard with a silent grimace, points of sweat prickling over his back and neck and his toes curling in his boots as he desperately clenched down against the urge to let go, as hard as he could. He couldn’t even change his stance to squeeze his thighs together— Teyla had already shot him another sidelong glare the last time he’d shifted just a tiny bit— and so he was stuck standing rigidly in place, unmoving, his feet apart and his sweaty hands gripping each other tight enough to hurt at the small of his back. </p><p><em> Just a little longer, </em> he told himself, repeating it like a mantra in the back of his mind. <em> Just one minute after another. It’s gotta be over soon.  </em></p><p>At the front of the great hall, the current speaker droned to a halt and was— John’s heart plummeted— replaced at the podium by yet another official. But… he was <em> pretty </em> sure this was the last one in the group. So long as no goddamn <em> surprise </em>guests were called in to speak, he might actually hold out long enough. </p><p>Pushing away the sudden, horrifying thought that <em> he </em> might be called up there to make a speech— unlikely; if anything, it would be Teyla— John tried to steady his shallow, almost panting breathing, his jaw twitching with every <em> throb </em>of desperate need thrumming hot through his straining bladder. </p><p>He couldn’t focus on anything except just how incredibly <em> badly </em> he needed to piss, the words from the speaker just a blur of distant noise. His bladder cramped again, harder this time— and to John’s horror, he felt a trickle of heat dampen his boxers before he managed to cut it off again. He was about to turn and leave then and there— stupid, overly long ceremonies and easily offended politicians be <em> damned— </em> but then he caught the words “<em>and so in closing</em>” from the front and forced himself to stay put through sheer, stubborn will. </p><p>Even the closing remarks apparently had to be long and drawn-out, though, and by the time the speaker <em> finally </em>declared the ceremony officially complete several minutes later, John’s legs were trembling and his boxers were getting wetter and wetter around the tip of his cock from a couple more leaks he couldn’t hold back. </p><p>The small crowd of people began moving and talking, the general hubbub of conversations starting up thankfully drowning out the pained, helpless groan John couldn’t fully stifle as another spurt escaped him; the longest one yet, and the hardest to stop from becoming a flood. He’d never been so glad he was wearing his thicker, <em> black </em> uniform pants, because a quick glance downwards confirmed that his almost-not-quite accident wasn’t actually showing— but that didn’t stop him being able to <em> feel </em>the harder jet of piss seep straight through the clinging material of his boxers and run down the inside of his thigh in a thin stream of heat. </p><p>Another panicked flush washed through him from head to toe as he spun on his heel towards the exit, hoping desperately that he hadn’t already left it too long and pretending he <em> wasn’t </em> already slowly and inexorably pissing his goddamn pants in front of an entire <em> room </em>full of people. </p><p>Ronon, for some reason that John was absolutely <em> not </em>about to question just then, pushed ahead of him, the Satedan’s natural glower alone opening up a path to the doorway. They made better time than John would have, fighting his way through the milling, chatting throng of humanity on his own, but it still took way longer than he would have liked. He was pretty much leaking with every last step by the time they made it outside, his boxers dripping wet and warm against his skin, a steady trickle of piss running down his legs and soaking slowly into his pant legs. </p><p>“There,” Ronon grunted, pointing at a small copse of scrubby little trees back around the side of the building. </p><p>John didn’t bother to question that either, his face flaming as the faster pace set his bladder cramping tighter and turned the slow leak briefly into a long, hard jet of piss that drenched his underwear and thighs in a wave of heat. He was already fumbling his fly down as he half-walked, half-ran the last few yards across the cultivated grass to the little patch of brush, and as he stumbled to a halt, the promise of imminent relief made his bladder start to let go on him before he was quite ready. </p><p>A gush of pee sprayed straight down his leg and all over his hand just as he frantically wrestled his cock out, swearing a blue streak under his breath. He had a brief moment of panic that after all that, he wouldn’t manage to get his dick out before the floodgates opened completely— he’d been holding so long he was actually half-hard, and that, combined with his wet boxers clinging to his thickened cock, made it that little bit more difficult to tug himself out— </p><p>But he managed it, and just in time. </p><p>John groaned, shaking with pure relief as he finally, <em> finally </em> let go properly. It felt so fucking good to piss that his head swam and he swayed on his feet, reaching up to brace against the small tree in front of him with his free hand. He couldn’t seem to stop <em> panting </em>as he peed, watching with a detached sort of amazement at the sheer volume of liquid he had in him, all of it spraying out in a thick, rushing torrent to splatter loudly against the leaves and dirt in a rapidly-growing puddle in front of his feet. </p><p>“Damn,” Ronon commented casually from a few paces beside him, and John nearly jumped out of his skin, his heavy stream sputtering out briefly and then picking up again almost immediately. He’d forgotten Ronon was even there. “Didn’t think you were gonna make it at the end, there.” </p><p>John blinked, his brain fuzzy with an almost unsettling, mind-numbing pleasure. He really, really didn’t think he’d ever had to pee quite this badly in his entire life, and couldn’t quite get over how downright incredible it felt. </p><p>“What- you <em> knew?”</em> he finally managed with a breathless half-laugh of mingled embarrassment and bemusement, glancing over at Ronon while he emptied himself. It just kept <em> coming, </em>though it was finally starting to slacken off a little. </p><p>“Don’t worry,” Ronon said. “Pretty sure I’m the only one who noticed.” </p><p>John grunted, a fresh flush of heated embarrassment prickling through him at the thought that Ronon had <em> known; </em> had been <em> watching </em> him the whole time he’d been slowly, helplessly wetting himself in front of everyone. Embarrassment, and… something else that he wasn’t sure he wanted to think too hard about just now, especially not with Ronon standing right there— and hopefully <em> not </em>noticing that he was still sporting a really blatant semi while he pissed. </p><p>“Well, I sure as hell hope you’re right about that,” John finally said. His piss finally sputtered out, leaving his whole body feeling weirdly light and over-sensitive, like a perpetual low-grade headrush. He waited, his blissfully deflated bladder still aching dully; and sure enough, it started up again a moment later. </p><p>Another groan escaped him as the weak stream kept going, still trickling feebly out of him until he started to wonder if he was going to be stuck there, peeing, forever. He couldn’t even push it out, somehow, his muscles so overtaxed from holding so long that nothing much happened when he tried. It was finally tapering off on its own again after a few more intermittent stops and starts, when Ronon grunted next to him. </p><p>“People coming.” </p><p>“Shit,” John muttered, hurriedly tucking himself away before he was quite done and grimacing as another brief trickle set a tiny spot of warmth blooming in his already-wet— and now also <em> cold— </em> boxers. “Thanks for the, uh, help,” he added, clearing his throat and giving himself a quick once-over as he turned around and started back towards the front of the building with Ronon. The wet patches in the front and legs of his pants were damp rather than soaked, thankfully; only noticeable in the dark fabric if you were <em> really </em>looking for it. And he was pretty sure he didn’t have enough actually left in him to worry about making it worse, despite the tiny, sporadic leaks he could still feel wetting the tip of his oversensitive cock as he walked. </p><p>Ronon shrugged and snorted a wry laugh. “Shit happens. I’ve had way worse than that.” </p><p>“Oh, really?” John asked, more interestedly than he’d meant to. He actually bit his tongue trying to cut off the blurted question, just a little too late— but Ronon just shot him an oddly considering glance for a moment. </p><p>“Yeah. I’ll tell you about it later,” Ronon said casually, his voice tinged with amusement and his lips curved into a crooked, <em> knowing </em> smirk that John could almost have thought he’d imagined. <em> Almost. </em>“If you get me drunk first.” </p><p>John nearly tripped over his own feet from the low flare of something a little too close arousal that lurched through his stomach. He was, fortunately, saved from having to untie his tongue and come up with answer to that as they rejoined the crowd emerging from the great hall. Swallowing hard and licking his lips, he glanced at Ronon and then looked quickly away again when he found the big Satedan gazing back steadily, still wearing that faint smile and an intense look that made heat prickle through John’s gut again— though for a very different reason than before. </p><p>He stayed distracted the entire time they were exchanging informal pleasantries with the locals, and for the rest of the walk back to the gate as well. Both because of the uncomfortable but not <em> exactly </em>unpleasant feeling of his still-wet underwear clinging to him and rubbing over his cock with every movement he made, and because he was getting pretty goddamn sure he wasn’t imagining the simmering interest in the looks Ronon kept giving him. </p><p>And, he realized with a small jolt… he really, <em> really </em>wanted to know more about Ronon pissing himself, too. </p><p> </p>
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